


Enter the Dragon

by SadBees



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Genji Shimada, Dragon Hanzo Shimada, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Immortality, Magical Items, Non Y/N Format, Non-binary character, Oracle Reader, Other, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Reincarnation, Shimada Clan Doesn't Exist, Spirits, Spiritual Powers, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-07 06:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadBees/pseuds/SadBees
Summary: Over a thousand years ago, Hanzo gave up his Dragon-God abilities to walk the Earth as a man alongside his brother to help heal the world they had ruined. Skip forward to the year 2076, with the second Omnic war on the rise, cultist assassins seeking out his blood, his brother, Genji, vanished, and word of strangers stalking him, Hanzo has enough problems of his own to deal with without having to take care of a clueless reincarnated Oracle who is in the possession of his Dragon-God powers. Not only does he have to watch after himself, the squishy mortal, and find his brother, but now he has to prove he is worthy to this new Oracle before he can retain his godhood...And all the while the world begins to collapse on itself too.AU | Hanzo x (Gender-neutral) Reader





	1. Legend: Dragons of the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by the Overwatch animated short "Dragons" - it's set in an alternate universe where the Shimada clan doesn't exist and Hanzo and Genji were the Dragons of the South and North Wind. While neither of them have Dragon-God abilities currently, they are both immortal and cannot die due to age.
> 
> The very beginning of this chapter is narrated dialogue taken directly from the animated short "Dragons" as reference for the history of the story and is therefore not written by me. I do not own Overwatch or any of the characters affiliated with it.

_There is an ancient legend about two great Dragon brothers; the Dragon of the North Wind and the Dragon of the South Wind. Together, they upheld balance and harmony in the Heavens._

_But the two brothers argued over who could better rule their land. Their quarrel turned to rage and their violent struggle darkened the skies, until the Dragon of the South Wind struck down his brother, and fell to earth, shattering the land._

_The Dragon of the South Wind had triumphed, but as time passed and he realized his solitude. The sweetness of victory turned to ash._

_For years the bereft Dragon's grief threw the world into discord and he knew only bitterness and sorrow. One day a stranger called up to the Dragon and asked "Oh, Dragon Lord, why are you so distraught?"_

_The Dragon told him "Seeking power I killed my brother, but without him, I am lost."_

_The stranger replied "You have inflicted wounds upon yourself, but now you must heal. Walk the earth on two feet as I do. Find value in humility, then you will find peace."_

_The Dragon knelt upon the ground. For the first time he was able to clearly see the world around him and he became human. The stranger revealed himself as his fallen brother. Reunited, the two set out to rebuild what they had once destroyed._

 

\--

 

_Or so it is told..._

In truth, the Dragon of the South Winds did kill his brother, and in return, his brother saved him as a Dragon in mortal form, but how the Dragon of the South Winds became human was remembered differently...

There was an Oracle, an old friend of the Dragons, once a worshiper of the North and South Winds when they were gods. This protector of the people, the Oracle, helped them on their journey to heal the lands they had destroyed. They offered wisdom to the lost, comfort to the hurt, and hope to the hopeless. And, above all else, they helped the Great Dragons understand humanity and humility.

And it was Oracle who was entrusted with the Dragon of the Southern Wind's immense power before being lost to time...

 

\--

 

_“Oracle, my friend, I cannot leave you with that burden…” A tall man, long dark hair tied neatly and loosely behind his back, eyes shadowed with grief, holds an elderly individual’s hands; his finger wrapped gently around the haggard, creased skin. The elderly individual laughs and shakes their head, effort apparent, face wrinkled generously with age._

_“Great dragon...you will be in more danger if you do not leave your powers with me.” they take in a deep ragged breath. “I can lock your powers away with my death...keep them safe. No one can steal it away once they learn not to fear you...your power will draw the attention of mortals with darkness in their hearts.” they give the man’s hands a gentle squeeze, their chest rumbling as they speak. “I do not have the immortality that is bestowed on you and your brother…” They take another shallow breath, “However, with my mortality, my humanness...I can bring further peace by saving_ _you_ _…” they give the man a smile, sparkling eyes filled with mirth, “Saving you from the already heavy burden on your shoulders...”_

_“Oracle…” the man shakes his head. The oracle raises their hand to hold his cheek._

_“You should not carry your burdens on your own...there are those who love you and can help you.” the Oracle turns their gaze to the man standing behind the Great Dragon of the South Wind before looking back to the Great Dragon’s human form, hand weakly falling back to the bed side. “When the time comes, when you need your powers, it will be lying with that who is reborn from my soul...they will help you.” The Oracle struggles to speak, lungs shuddering from the effort of all the words spoken. The Great Dragon remains still for a moment, distraught, before he reaches into the hem of his kimono and pulls out a single large pearl necklace, the precious gem glowing with brilliant energy. He glances at the item before looking back at his elderly friend._

_“It will not be the same without you…” the Great Dragon says sorrowfully, unwrapping the necklace from around his neck._

_“Fret not, Great Dragon...I will be with you.” the Oracle watches as the Great Dragon presses the pearl gingerly into the fabric of their kimono. The pearl lights up, glowing with warming blue light before it sinks into the mortal elder’s body like water. The Oracle smiles at the Great Dragon and then to the younger man behind him. “Take care...Great Dragons of the Wind…” the brothers watch as the Oracle closes their eyes and draws in a final worn breath before a slow sigh leaves their lips, body relaxing into the futon, the once lively wrinkles becoming still, smile fading like an old memory lost to time. The man, still holding the Oracle’s hand, releases the limb gingerly, placing the hand against the Oracle’s side. The Great Dragon’s head falls is despair._

_“Brother…” the younger looking man places a hesitant hand on the older man’s shoulder._

_“We should give them their last rights.” the eldest brother declares as he stands from the Oracle's side, voice ringing a fresh pain in his heart. The youngest slowly withdraws his hand and watches his brother leave the small home. The brother looks to the body of the Oracle and clasps his hand together before bowing in their direction._

_“Thank you, Oracle, friend...for taking care of my brother and me…” he says quietly - a prayer for the departed. He swiftly stands up and gives a small nod of his head “Go in peace.” he whispers before moving after his brother. He stops in thought and turns to his friend and pulls a feather from one of his bags. He walks back to the Oracle’s bedside and moves their hands to sit on their abdomen on top of the feather. A wave of emotions crests in the youngest brother’s heart and he sucks in a short breath in defiance, letting the sadness tidal through before he can continue out the door. His eyes catch the pieces that pull at memories of the past and he squeezes his eyes shut and pushes onward. Once outside, his brother waits with a lit torch, eyes heavy._

_“May their ashes will be scattered to the wind...may they find peace in the breeze…” the eldest brother says, bringing his torch to the old home. Dry wood, grass, and foliage - the home has no trouble catching flame. After some time, the house is engulfed and smoke billows into the sky._

_“Brother, your heart is heavy…” the youngest says, “Why burn the house of our friend?”_

_“It is...easier this way. It would be unkind to let this place to fall in decay or be desecrated...their home...our home.” The eldest closes his eyes, letting the wind catch his hair. He takes a deep breath, trying to remember the smell of home._

_“It is hard to watch our home, and our friend, pass on, but they would not want us to dwell on this. It is a part of mortal life, something they can not help.” the youngest reminds him; the elder brother scoffs, tossing his head to the side in irritation._  
_“I know, brother.”_  
_  
_ “You cared for them deeply.” the youngest knows.

_“It does not matter.” the eldest snaps in a stern tone, patience thin, silencing the younger brother. The eldest recognizes his harshness and his shoulders fall. The youngest brother shakes his head, knowing his elder brother is too proud to say how he truly feels, too tied in grief and pain to speak. Turning his head to the north, the youngest watches the dark clouds rolling towards them, distant thunder echoing across the usually quiet hills, stirring the sleepy valley. Birds scatter from the trees towards the south, hoping to escape the brewing anger in the sky._

_“A storm is coming...it would be best to make it to village before it hits.” the words bring nothing but the sound of crackling flame between them. The youngest almost tries to reach out again, “Brother--”_

_“Go.” his voice carries the tone of anguish that he so desperately tries to hide. “I will join you later...brother.” the eldest words are soft. His brother nods slightly before turning to walk alone. The eldest watches the building crumble in flame, viewing the past years burn away before his very eyes. It isn’t until the rain smothers the charred remains does the eldest brother realize time has passed._

_Walk the earth on two feet as I do. Find value in humility, then you will find peace…_

_The words his brother once said to him were inspired by the Oracle._

_“But know, you will understand suffering, loss, pain, and grief; joy, love, beauty, and kindness before you know harmony - life is balance, give and take, good and bad, beginnings and endings.”_

_“This is humility, this is mortality.”_

_“This is the path you take, Great Dragons.”_

_He closes his eyes, reflecting on the Oracle’s past words, attempting to come to terms with the reality that humanity had laid at his feet. Kneeling on the ground, he submits himself to the rain, knees in the wet grass. From his pocket, he takes a flower and gingerly twirls it in his fingers, reminiscing on old memories distilled in time. The blue flower came from the mountains in which the Oracle had prayed to, a place of peace, a place where they had started their journey into showing the Great Dragons humanity. Rain from the sullen skies softly caress his face, running down his cheeks like tears. He rests the tiny, blue blossom before the burnt debris - one last gift. For a time, this action is enough, but soon he rocks off his knees and onto his feet. He lifts his gaze from the flower to the single standing tori that hangs above his head, the wood groaning in relief as the rain steadily extinguishes the fire that had once raged so passionately._

_“I will not forget your words…” the Great Dragon of the South Winds starts, losing his voice for only a moment, “Nor your kindness.” He turns his chin down to study the remains. “I will not forget humility or the love humans share for this world...or each other. Or the love I held for you.” He whispers to the grave. “This, I promise you.” he slowly backs away, as if waiting for a response, but none comes. With this he takes another deep breath and turns his back._

_And finally, he begins his journey to the village, emotions lost like tears in the rain._

 

\--

 

For the Great Dragon of the South Winds did not give up his godly powers, but bestowed them onto the Oracle of the people for safe keeping, where they would harbor his powers unto their next life eternally, until his godhood had been returned...or until the end of the world.

And that’s where our story begins.

When the world is sitting on the precipice of the end.


	2. The Compass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo buys a compass and find something he does not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " italicized text " = Words spoken in Japanese  
> " text " = Words spoken in English  
> ' italicized text ' = Thoughts
> 
> Hanzo's outfit is based on the casual skin.

It was the fact that Hanzo was shoved while he was minding his own business that stirred the familiar feelings of resentment. He would have let it pass, until a string of curses was thrown at him as he continues to walk on. Now it is on his mind like the rain is sitting on his jacket. As always, Hanzo remains the the bigger person, though it isn’t hard for him to do. When he stops at the edge of the sidewalk he looks to the pedestrian sign, waiting patiently, a car rushes by, dipping into the pothole and dousing Hanzo’s only pair of pants with oily rainwater. His frown deepens and he watches as the others around him cast sympathetic glances or try to hide the smiles - Hanzo was sure of it now.

 _‘I hate humans...'_ the words stew in his mind.

When the light alerts the pedestrians to walk, Hanzo steps forward, but keeps a cautious eye out. The squealing of tires causes him to leap, wind chasing his heels, and he quickly lands on the other side of the road. As he thought, someone had not been paying attention and almost ran him over. Rather than revel in the fact that he lived, he merely stuffs his hands in his pockets and moves faster, head down, not wanting to draw more attention to himself. There were a couple shouts of concern, but he ignores them in favor of reaching his destination.

Long strides down the sidewalk, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead. The bright lights flashing from the tall buildings above contrast greatly with the rainy, gray skies of Kyoto. The old capital has changed so much over the years. Hanzo had changed himself as time passed. No longer did he dawn long hair or a kimono have a place in normal society. It bothered him at one point, but now he no longer cares. A younger, less adapted, Hanzo would have been distraught at all the change; would have frowned upon the reform in attire, but Hanzo feels more expressive in this age. Now he is bundled in a black jacket, blue pants, gray boots, hair short and tied behind his head, the sides of his hair shaved, though a grouping of strands was too short to be tied back and hung over to the side of his face. Something he never thought he would do was get piercings, but now his ears adorn piercings, as well as the bridge of his nose. He also sports a dragon tattoo on his left arm, though it hidden by his jacket - a reminder of who he was once.

Who he wishes he could be now.

Things would be much easier if he could just simply leave

Not that he could now, due to several, rather unfortunate, circumstances.

Coming to a pedestrian path through a more traditional district, the sight of the houses fill the old man with nostalgia, frown softening. However, he doesn’t stop, and walks into an old shop. A little bell on the shop door chimes as he walks in, alerting the owner - a middle aged man, much like Hanzo himself. Looking up from his newspaper, the shop owner eyes Hanzo, squinting through glasses.

“ _You expecting trouble?_ ” the shop owner inquires in Japanese, eyeing the arrows tied in Hanzo’s blue pack strung over his shoulders and the hidden bow and sword, wrapped in faded cloth that shows signs that it had once been adorned with golden dragons. Hanzo casually strolls in, glancing around the shop, examining the items the pawn shop had to offer.

“ _No. should I be?_ ” Hanzo asks carefully - one could never be too careful. The owner chuckles, apparently finding his words amusing.

“ _No, no. Not from me._ ” he shakes his head. “ _What can I get you? What are you looking for? I have a large assortment here in my shop._ ” the man says with a sense of pride. “ _Unless, you’re looking to sell or trade…?_ ”

“ _I am looking to buy._ ” Hanzo says, stepping to the counter, slinging his pack off his shoulders to place on the counter. “ _A very particular item._ ”  
  
“ _Well, hopefully I’ll have it. What’cha looking for?_ ” the shop owner leans over the glass counter.  
  
“ _A compass._ ” Hanzo replies, looking the shop owner in the eye. “ _A unique compass that helps find what they desire._ ” the shop owner’s brow rises.  
  
“ _Not sure I have anything like that--_ ”  
  
“ _I know what you are, spirit. Do not lie to me. I was told you have special wares, the compass being among them._ ” Hanzo states bluntly, not wanting to dance around the subject. The shop owner scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“ _Who the hell told you? Was it Naoto?_ ”

“ _It does not matter._ ” Hanzo crosses his arms. “ _Do you have the compass?_ ”

“ _Yes, I have the damn compass. And you can’t have people just going around telling strangers about what you really are! Spirits are disappearing as it is in the mortal plane, don’t want to be hunted._ ” the spirit curses under his breath. “ _You have no idea what it’s like._ ”

“ _I used to be god._ ” Hanzo says.  
  
“ _Yeah, you and everyone else here. Be a shrine god, a god of a river, or a god of some insignificant spit of land - you all end up in Kyoto and in my shop._ ” the spirit shop owner sighs wearily before walking into the back room. Hanzo looks over his shoulder, checking to see if there was anyone outside the shop. “ _Yes, I have the compass you’re looking for._ ” he says from the other room, causing the Great Dragon to turn back his gaze to the counter. “ _These are hard to come by nowadays, not they were ever easy to get in the first place, but it’s only become more difficult._ ” he shuffles out of the back room with a small wooden box in his hand. Tapping the top of the box, there are several clicks that inform them that it’s now unlocked and then he opens it and slides it over the counter to Hanzo. “ _I’ve had this one for years, you’re the first to ask for it since I bought it from some poor sap who had debt up to his eyeballs--_ ”

“ _I will buy it, how much?_ ” Hanzo opens his pack to get his wallet. The spirit rubs their chin in thought.  
  
“ _I could trade it for that wind talisman you have beneath your jacket…_ ” he suggests, earning a swift glare from Hanzo. “ _I could sense it before you even came in, that’s powerful magic--_ ”  
  
“ _That is not for sale, spirit._ ” Hanzo says thinly.  
  
“ _I get it, I get it. Just don’t go cutting me._ ” he waves his arms in defense. “ _Now, since you’re not willing to trade, a fair price would be…_ ” he clicks his tongue, “ _200,000 yen?_ ” Hanzo slams a hand down on the counter.  
  
“ _You’re ripping me off._ ” the Great Dragon accuses.  
  
“ _That compass may be the only one left in the world! They aren’t easy to come across! You must not want it that bad if 200,000 yen is too much for you - some people would charge you 1,000,000 yen. I’m offering you a great deal!_ ” The spirit argues.

“ _I am the Great Dragon of the South Winds--_ ”

“ _Look, I don’t care what you used to be. Do you think I like running a tiny pawn shop in the middle of old Kyoto? I used to run the biggest shop in Kyoto, back in the old days, before all this mess with the Omnics and dozens of human wars and scientific discoveries. I used to be rich, now times have changed._ ” the spirit begins sliding the compass back to his side of the counter. “ _You’re mostly mortal now, I could barely sense you having even an inkling of spiritual power, other than what protects you from aging. You probably keep that wind talisman around so you can protect yourself, yeah? I’m willing to lower the price--_ ” There’s a loud bang as Hanzo slaps down the money on the counter.

“ _Take the money, thief._ ” Hanzo’s voice is laced with venom. The spirit rolls his eyes. “ _Greedy toad spirit._ ”

“ _There’s no need for name calling._ ” the spirit begins counting the money. Satisfied with the amount, the toad spirit slides back the compass to Hanzo. The mortal snags the compass and zips up his pack before putting it back on, the arrows rattling with the motion. “ _Pleasure doing business with--_ ” Hanzo exits before hearing the rest.

Picking up the old wooden compass, he closes his eyes and focuses on what he desires most. The compass begins to spin rapidly before settling on a single direction.

It still worked.

A good sign.

A good sign for the toad spirit as well.

Hanzo follows the direction of the compass - he will find his brother, wherever he went. His brother disappeared about a week and a half ago. At first, he hadn’t thought much of it, Genji liked to run off on his own every now and then to, usually, get in trouble some way or another. However, after four days, and no hide nor hair, Hanzo knew something was wrong. It was a hunch, but his hunches were never wrong. Genji liked to joke about it: 'No ill wind can pass around you, brother.'

He would say that all the time and at one point it was amusing, but not any more. Now that Genji has vanished, Hanzo grows more anxious with each day - his brother had brought solace to him in dark times and was the only one that kept him grounded. There were others in the past, mortals, who he had called friend, but the sting of loss and his own jaded view on humanity has prevented him from befriending others. Hanzo now prefers solitude or just the company of his brother, it is easier that way. Mortals, these days, offered less conventional wisdom and cared less, likely to be desensitized by the chaos the world had been continually thrust into due to their own actions and decisions.

Genji, however, was open to befriending virtually anyone, which had gotten them in trouble in the past. Hanzo tried to tell his brother that not everyone should be trusted or befriended, but he hardly listened to him. He was not his brother’s keeper, nor did he want to be, but sometimes he wishes Genji was more careful; past and present. His brother, the North Wind, is curious, playful, adventurous, witty and it always got him into trouble and would eventually drag Hanzo with him; but it was also Genji that had often found the truest of friends and allies in the most uncommon of places.

Genji is not a fool, though his brother often loves to contradict him.

The immortal North Wind has a way of soothing others, be it with a smile or playful banter. Genji also has the innate ability of attracting all sorts of people to his side, from all walks of life, be they the lowliest of criminals or highest of nobles. He has claimed it’s due to his ‘Dashing good looks and award winning smile.’ but those comments made Hanzo roll his eyes. Genji just has a magnetic personality that many did not possess. Others were drawn to him because that is just a part of who he is.

Something Hanzo did not possess.

His brother had once told him that he had the charm of a ‘crotchety old man’. It is true, Hanzo prefers to be alone and only appreciates the company of some people, which makes him what Genji calls a ‘party pooper’. Hanzo does not care for idle conversation, nor does he mince words - being to the point has always been how he is. Genji could talk with strangers and befriend them almost instantly. Genji is charismatic, confident, collected, and cool-headed - traits that Hanzo wishes he has, but he would never admit that to him. His brother already has an inflated ego, he does not need to add to it.

Though, truthfully, Hanzo would admit it all if it meant his brother shows up, completely safe. He does not want to lose his brother again, not when he can prevent it. The two of them are going to have a long conversation about staying in contact when he shows up or Hanzo finds him. if Hanzo found that his brother’s disappearance is because of some foolish trouble or some kind of interest that caused him to forget to keep in contact, Hanzo is going to (metaphorically) kill him. The very idea of this ending up being some kind of joke causes a growl to emanate in his throat, but in his heart, he hopes it is and not something more serious.

But, deep inside, Hanzo knew something terrible has happened.

Which is what prompts such a drastic measure.

Following the path of the compass, Hanzo keeps an eye out for signs of his brother; or signs of trouble. He maneuvers through heavy foot traffic, twisting, stepping, and ducking out of the way when necessary. His past training as a soldier, a ninja, and a spy always comes in handy when trying to get around the heavy populace of Kyoto. Foot traffic is near impossible to avoid, but it hardly affects his speed. Crossing the street as soon as the pedestrian sign changes from the red glow to the blue-green glow on a human silhouette, Hanzo expertly marches through the crowd, eyes up, scanning the faces of the mortals around him.

He is on edge, but for good reason.

It never hurt to be cautious, especially when your brother is missing.

Across the street, Hanzo spots the familiar sight of the ramen shop his brother regularly attends while they stayed in Kyoto. Seeing the compass pointing in the direction, the elder brother quickly makes his way into the restaurant, pressing the glass door in. The food joint is rather quiet, calm conversation ringing in the high ceilings. Hanzo studies the compass - the direction has not changed, revealing the fact that Genji was likely farther away.

“ _If it isn’t the brother!_ ” a loud voices booms across the restaurant. Hanzo, eyes narrowing, peeks up from the enchanted object in his hands to see recognizable face and Hanzo relaxes somewhat. “ _Come in, come in!_ ” the old man motions with his big, burly, animated arms. He is rather short, stocky, face shaven, but showing signs of gray hair returning with fervor. His eyes glow with life, contrasting the brutal scars lingering across his face and arms. The great dragon is opposed, but walks towards the bar. “ _Surprised to see you here, Genji told me you and he were leaving Kyoto a while ago._ ” the old man presses his hands onto the counter.

“ _Takazawa, you have not seen Genji as of recent, have you._ ” Hanzo’s mouth paints itself into a grim line. It isn’t so much a question as much as acceptance.

“ _Nope. To bad too, been missing his presence at the bar. Has the wildest stories, even if they are full of shit._ ” Takazawa barks laughter, hands slamming against the metal bar in his high spirits. Hanzo remains quiet, though it doesn’t seem to bother the ramen cook.“ _Odd to see you around here by yourself, usually just your brother if not the both of you._ ”

“ _I’m sure it is._ ” Hanzo replies, still standing in front of the bar.

“ _Sit, sit, friend._ ” Takazawa pats the counter in front of Hanzo and he reticently complies. “ _What troubles you?_ ”

“ _What makes you believe I am troubled?_ ” Hanzo asks, eyes scrutinizing the man a little.  
  
“ _Your tone of voice, the heaviness in your shoulders. What is going on?_ ” The old man inquires, earning a sign from the immortal.

“ _Genji is missing._ ” Hanzo relents, not looking Takazawa in the eye. The old man’s brows raise into his hairline, but says nothing in return; then a steeled expression returns onto his face. “ _I am looking for him._ ”

“ _Have you gone to the police?_ ” Takazawa asks, arms crossed. Hanzo dips his head towards the bar.

“ _It would not help._ ”

“ _I see._ ” Takazawa rumbles. He begins stroking his chin, deep in thought. _“I don’t know exactly what type of trouble your brother or you get into, but Genji is a good man. I knew Genji was a troublemaker when he first came in - takes one to know one._ ” he shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. “ _Just wait a moment, I’ll get you some ramen._ ” Hanzo raises a hand.

“ _I do not have the money._ ”

“ _It’s on the house._ ” Takazawa informs him. _"Genji is a friend and I’ll be damned if I let his brother go save his ass on an empty stomach. What kind of a friend would I be?_ ”

“ _It is really not necessary--_ ”

“ _To refuse would insult me as a ramen artisan._ ” Takazawa gives Hanzo a challenging look. Hanzo, who has not eaten all day, silently relents, head further dipping down. His brother is helping him indirectly, once again. So the old man begins to work on a bowl, one of his co-workers remarking on the fact that Takazawa had too much of a soft spot for Genji, which earns him a smack to the back of the head. Not long after the ramen chef leaves, he comes back and donates him a large bowl.

“ _Thank you._ ” Hanzo’s voice is quiet, but not small. He has a great deal of pride, but he will thank someone for their help.

“ _It’s nothing._ ” the ramen chef shakes his head, waving him off. Takazawa looks at the door and sees more customers pile in. “ _Just enjoy the food, find your brother, bring him back so i can hit on the back of his head._ ” he says before greeting the new customers. Hanzo smiles the smallest amount, barely a hint, before he picks up his chopsticks and begins enjoying the ramen.

Genji loves ramen, particularly this ramen shop in Kyoto. ‘One of his favorites’ his brother once told him. If it was the company or the ramen Genji preferred more, Hanzo is unsure. The ramen is delicious, as to be expected - his brother is very selective about ramen. It has also been a while since Hanzo ate, which could attribute to why it tastes so great, but it doesn’t matter. Sustenance is necessary to survive as a mortal.

Thirty minutes after he had received his ramen, the bar was full, the surrounding tables as well. The restaurant is packed, the building echoing with loud, jubilant conversation. Night has come into full swing and many come here after work to celebrate, enjoy, or relax after work. He comes close to finishing the noodles when a cup is placed before him - sake. He watches as Takazawa goes back to work immediately after, not bothering to say a word. That is unusual, but Hanzo would never say no to free sake. He quietly drinks the cup, closing his eyes for a moment to just enjoy.

“ _Hanzo._ ” Takazawa’s voice rings out to him, tone hushed. The dragon’s eyes snap open and he looks up to the old man, the ramen chef’s face neutral, but eyes dark. “ _Some men have been sending you looks since they’ve gotten here._ ” Takazawa subtly rolls his head in the direction of the door. Hanzo casts a glance over, seeing the six men dressed in black. Each wore nice suits, but the glaring red dragon symbol on one of the man’s face caught his attention. They are affluent, but did not fear to show off they were organized, powerful. They seem to look away when he glances over, which only prove Hanzo’s suspicions. “ _Please don’t start a fight in my shop._ ” Takazawa whispers before walking back to work. The dragon throws back the rest of his sake before placing the cup back down and slipping out of the bar stool.

He knew this gang.

Passing by the group, Hanzo feigns ignorance to their motives and walks out the door into the cool night air. There are many people out tonight, due to the festival - the celebration of the end of the 1st omnic war, a tradition since the wars end years ago. He takes out the compass from his pocket to check the direction he needs to travel in before stuffing it back and ranging out. He walks, not looking over his shoulder, knowing they were following; they always followed when they found them.

But now it’s just him, because his brother vanished.

There are sparklers being set off around him, illuminating the civilians having fun abroad the street, laughter and joy encircling him. His hand flinches, wanting to draw out one of his weapons, but he keeps to appearing ignorant of the danger around him. He also doesn’t want to cause a scene, more attention would be worse for an innumerable amount of reasons. Hanzo and Genji didn’t exist in the system - they are too old. If Hanzo is brought in for questioning, if the government knew of his face, there would only be questions. Any money garnered is cash only. It is hard to find jobs, but his brother makes it easier. People are much more willing to offer help to kind, charismatic, and humorous individuals. Any mistake Hanzo makes on his own will likely not end well, specifically in the eyes of mortal society.

The eldest brother weaves in and out of foot traffic, trying to throw off his perpetrators without being too obvious. These ‘gangsters’ have attacked him and his brother in the past, though Hanzo is not one hundred percent certain why. Dragon markings, the color red, and special training in assassination techniques told Hanzo they did not want to simple talk. From brief spying on this enemy, they discovered that they were organized and wanted Hanzo. As to why, Hanzo and Genji had no idea why, but this behavior was common in the distant past from cultists. As the Oracle predicted, once people stopped fearing them, people had been prone to seek them out for various reasons; some of them had more malicious intent. These ‘cultists’ seemed to be one of those.

Seeing various stalls ahead, Hanzo walks a little faster, hoping to lose them in the colorful, heavily populated array of the festival. Footfalls light, arms brought close to his body to avoid hitting anyone. Eyes forward, he tunes in on the voices coming from behind him, some of the Kyoto citizens are being pushed and shuffled out of the way - the cultists aren’t being subtle now. Focusing on the forward, several uniform individuals are walking towards him now, all dawning dragon masks. A small grunt of annoyance catches in Hanzo’s throat as he sees them moving to grab things from their sides, so the great dragon has to do something drastic. Taking a sharp right, Hanzo jumps over the counter of an Okonomiyaki stand, avoiding the hot grills as the mortals gasp and yelp in shock. Exiting out of the backside of the stall, he begins to run away from the festival.

Sending a glance over his shoulder, he sees that he bought himself some time, though likely it wouldn’t last long. These cultists were tenacious in the past and after sending another glance over his shoulder, he could see that they are just as tenacious now. His speed is quartered due to the amount of foot traffic walking after him, but some individuals seem to move out of his way, which makes the escape easier. However, Hanzo’s luck runs out as he looks back, to see where his enemies are, and then collides into an elderly woman, sending her to the ground. The crowd parts, giving them space, and Hanzo gets to his feet. He sends a glance over his shoulder and sees that the cultists are catching up due to everyone becoming curious as to what happened. He growls and helps the old woman up before running past, some people shouting at him, demanding some form of apology, or just to simply cuss him out. He did not have time to deal with the mortals.

Finally outside the festival traffic, he runs down the sidewalk, tightening the draw string around the arrows in his pack so they wouldn’t fly out while he runs. Patting the fabric covering his weapons, he feels they are safely wrapped and then dedicates all his effort into running. Kyoto citizens clear his path, not wanting to be hit. Hanzo looks back for a moment, the cultists were keeping pace, but are not fast enough to reach him. He feels a smug grin pull at his lips, but then he turns to looks back at his path and the smile turns into surprise. Slowing himself, he manages to stop completely at the edge of the sidewalk - an intersection with dozens of cars driving through. He pulls the compass from his pocket and checks to see if he is running in the right direction, only to see it has changed, the arrow now pointing to his right.

Lucky him.

He bolts down the street, cultists now too close for comfort. Hanzo occasionally glances at the compass, seeing if it will change directions, and it does. This meant his brother is close by, did it not? Hanzo, picks up speed, new found energy fueling his strides. He manages to gain some distance, but that comes to a screeching halt when he comes to an old parking lot with a large buildings fencing the lot. He slides to a stop, heart pounding his chest. Kyoto has changed so much since the old days, he could not tell where he was. He curses under his breath and turns to face the cultists, changing to a defensive stance. He does not want to fight, but it seems he will not have an option. The cultists slow as they approach, weapons being drawn. The leader of this group steps forward, eyes dark like coals, the dragon tattoo on his face appearing to breathe the darkness into them.

“ _You cannot run forever._ ” The leader states in Japanese, smile growing on his face; he is very proud of himself for this. Hanzo remains silent, eyes narrowed. “ _You can come quietly, it would make this a lot easier for all of us._ ”

At least this group leader was more talkative than all the previous ones. Perhaps he would be able to draw more information from them.

“ _Why chase me around Japan, why try to corner me like a rat? Do you have no honor?_ ” Hanzo inquires in a severe voice.

“ _You, dragon blood, should be the last to talk about honor._ ” The man draws his sword, pointing the blade at the Great Dragon. “ _You stole the blood from the gods._ ” He accuses with a tangible ferocity. “ _You will only honor us with your death!_ ” he lunges at Hanzo with the blade, though the Great Dragon merely ducks and brings a swift punch to the cultist’s elbow. He cries in pain, dropping the blade. Hanzo takes the opportunity to swipe the katana from the ground and arm himself, not wanting to dirty his own blade. The leader, like a coward, slinks back, holding his elbow, pain etched onto his face. “ _Get him!_ ” he commands. Hanzo prepares his sword, concentrating on the dozen fighters running at him.

First blade is countered before Hanzo side steps and slices at their abdomen, careful not kill them, downing the first foe. Second blade came to the side, Hanzo brings up his borrowed sword to stop it and then swipes the swordsman's legs out from underneath him with a swift kick. Third blade comes down from above, Hanzo managing to bring up his in time to stop it, but the fourth katana swipes at Hanzo’s stomach. He leaps back before it hits him, grunting lightly at the effort. The fifth katana comes at his left, Hanzo using his sword to swing his opponent’s blade wide before using the opening to kick the attacker away into the far wall with assistance from his wind talisman. Third, fourth, and sixth blade all decide to attack Hanzo at once, shouting as they run at him, leaving the Great Dragon no other option but to use the talisman again, this time in the form of a quick swipe of air, the force of the blade forming the wind into a single sharp gust, small cuts littering their bodies and shattering their swords.

The seventh blade sought to cut him behind, but Hanzo jabs him into the stomach with his elbow, the blow knocking the wind out of them. He kicks them away before the eighth blade slashes at his legs; Hanzo jumps, avoiding the sharp edge completely, then he spins around them and jams the butt of the blade into the back of their head, sending them down. Ninth enemy nearly manages to cut Hanzo’s arm, but he deflects using his borrowed katana, the enemy’s blade sliding down to the tsuba before Hanzo pushes their blade off and kicking them in the groin. Hanzo then leans back, dodging a chop at his head. Using his momentum, he flips back, kicking the katana out of their hand - the tenth swordsman now defenseless. The final two swordsmen watch Hanzo warily, inching slowly away from the man who downed ten of the twelve opponents in mere moments. Having his opening, Hanzo rushes past the last two with swords, the men too scared to attack him. Their leader tells them all to get up and chase after him.

Hanzo looks to his compass while he runs, that’s when it takes a drastic turn. He skids to a halt and snaps his head to the left. There is not much there, expect for strangers, but he then notices a stairway down. It is the entrance to the subway - a possibility that his brother is there. He casts a look over his shoulder and realizes he won’t have much more of an opening to run if he lingers, so he takes off into the subway.

 

\----

 

“Uggggg…” it’s a long winded sigh that leaves your lips, the heavy bag on your shoulders only dragging you down now. “This is what happens when you have multiple jobs…” you groan at the cement pavement. You are tired, tired of working back to back jobs, but that is life, that is what you decided upon. You have only lived in Kyoto for around four months and life has been tough. You aren’t a local, you aren’t fluent in Japanese, you aren’t even from this country. You are a stranger, but this had always been your dream. To live and work in Japan.

But it’s not how you exactly envisioned it.

You thought getting permission to live and work in Japan would have been the biggest hurdle, but so far it was the surviving part that is. Work was hard to find, without the help of your Japanese friend, Yukako, it would have been likely impossible. You feel like an idiot for even thinking of not learning the language completely before moving here. Your friend had tried to assure you it was alright, but you knew better. You were ignorant and embarrassed by that fact, but you are beginning to take things in stride. You know enough Japanese to hold a decent conversation. Lucky for you, the two jobs you have dealt with a lot of foreigners, being in the Kyoto tourist area. One job is at a cafe, the job that Yukako got you, and the other job at a high end restaurant, that you scored yourself, with Yukako’s help, of course.

Yukako and you met years ago. She was an exchange student that lived at your house during high school. The two of you became fast friends and she introduced you to the language a bit. Since then, you two had kept in contact, exchanging emails, and on occasion video calls and letters. The two of you briefly met up two years ago in Tokyo, when you were 23, and vacationed in the huge city. After a taste of Japan, you knew you wanted to live here. If not forever, at least for a couple of years. You hadn’t found your calling career wise and college sounds like too much of a commitment, so, despite your family’s disagreement to your idea, you moved to Kyoto.

And now you work two jobs and live in the suburbs in a tiny apartment, which you are trying to get to now, nearly midnight.

It is the one terrible thing about working at high end places at night, they didn’t close until late. You much prefer your cafe job, but this job gives you more hours, even if it is more stressful. The restaurant business is far from casual and slow paced. For a long time, your feet got sore from running around between tables, carrying trays, taking orders, and running to the back to get wine, champagne, and other alcoholic beverages. However, people tended to be polite and tipped well if you kept a smile on your face and that forced enthusiasm. You don’t view yourself as charismatic, but Yukako tells you that you are good at listening and making her feel valued, so that talent came in handy.

That being said, there are nights where you receive no tips and mistakes add up; like tonight had gone. You groan at the memory, hiding your face as you walk down into the subway. You had given out the wrong drinks, wrote down the wrong orders, and had to ask some people to speak more slowly, due to you still struggling with the Japanese language a bit. Your manager still kept you, though, much to your relief. You offered to help out after your scheduled hours to make up for your blunders, which she accepted. But, boy, did she make you work. Your hands still ache from scrubbing dishes, mopping floors, and setting up the tables for tomorrow. She let you off thirty minutes before the last subway, at least allowing you some time to get home.

Feet dragging a bit, you finally make it to the station, only to see the doors closing. Your eyes widening, you run towards the doors, but the subway starts up.

“No, no, no!” you whine. watching the electronic train take off into the tunnel. Your shoulders sag, jaw hanging open as you groan, head falling towards the yellowing tiles of the old tunnel. You really want to lay in bed, you really want to sleep. Alas, life decided to make your night even longer. Checking your phone, you see that there’s at least one more train coming by tonight. “Guess I can wait.” you sigh to yourself. You look to your phone, hoping to have something to pass the time, but then your screen informs you that your phone has low battery. “Great.” you mumble. Lifting your head, you take a breath.

 _‘I am an adult. I can be patient.'_ you think to yourself.

You hear the clamoring of shoes against cement, likely to be another person trying to be sure to catch the last subway for tonight. As soon as they run into sight, they look around wildly, before checking out something into their hand. You take this moment to look at them. Piercings, a parkour-looking outfit, a sleek haircut, and a backpack. This person had age to his face, your guess is that he could be hitting his forties soon, not that it is bad or anything. You even dared to think he is a little cute.

 _‘Stop that, stop that. No ogling people, no matter how ruggedly handsome they are.’_ you chide yourself, but don’t quite look away. This is when, of course, he looks up, directly at you and you make that awkward eye contact with a complete stranger and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes are wide, mouth set into a firm line, like you’re trying desperately not to be seen in plain sight. He almost seems confused and disappointed as he looks in your direction, but then he squints before his eyes widen. _‘Is there something I’m missing?’_

“You!” a low, stern voice accuses. He points in your direction, which only serves to confuse you. You didn’t know this man, you have never seen him in your life! So you glance over your shoulder, to see if there is someone behind you, then you spin in place, trying to see if there is anyone else around. Much to your even greater confusion, there is no one but you and the man pointing at you. So, you try one final, likely moronic tactic; looking at him back and slowly pointing at yourself, just for final clarification. He, of course, gives you a look of confusion, like the answer is one-hundred percent obvious, which it is, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed - that is rude. You have just met this man and you already feel like you’re being publicly called out.

What a great way to start a relationship. Like how one of those old fanfics you used to read when you had time.

That’s when the tunnel lights flicker for no reason at all. You blink, head upturned, hoping this isn’t the beginning of an earthquake, but it stops as soon as it starts. You look back to the man, hoping for some kind of explanation, but his arm falls to his side and his expression morphs into that of a glare, eyes now accusing you of something new.

‘ _Ok, what did I do now?_ ’ You purse your lips and glare back.

It takes a moment to realize that he is actually looking past you. Once you make that connection, you feel a chill run down your back. You hope to some form of god that this is not turning into some sort of horror film; and, much to your despair, it is. Looking behind your shoulder, you see a masked individual. Similar to that Oni mask, it has many protruding teeth, the color an angry red, eyes bulging, the mouth drawn back in a roar, but a shaggy mane around the edges - a red dragon mask. If the mask isn’t a warning that they aren’t a good sign, their sword is. You eyes the blade and the masked person slowly draws out the sword, building up the fear in your heart. You look between the handsome stranger and the terrifying stranger, making the connection that they intended to do harm to one another, but you are literally right in the middle of this situation. You look at ‘ruggedly’ man, grim fear spreading across your face.

That’s when he launches at you, his own sword drawn.

So you do what you can in the moment and duck, hands flying around your head in some sad  attempt to protect it. You also let out a shrill screech of fear, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear the twang of what you can imagine is metal on metal, so you look up as see piercings and mask are dueling above your head like in the anime you watched as a kid, katana grinding against each other in a test of strength. You quietly mouth ‘ _What the hell_ ’ to yourself, not sure what to do.

“Move!” ‘Piercings’, you affectionately call him now, barks at you. You try to move, but then you see dragon mask trying to swing at you, which Piercings counters. So you try the other way, which yields the same results, but earns a squeaky yell from you. Piercings growls and lets out a yell, using the katana in his hands to magically push dragon mask away. You take the opening and crawl away from the two warring individuals. Clamoring to your feet, you turn to see the two having what you could only describe as a ‘Jedi battle’. There is rapid attacks, spinning, the sound of metal grating on each other, which irritates the ears. You back towards the exit, watching the battle out of time, hands hovering over your ears, wincing at each strike.

 

\---

 

Hanzo grunts, deflecting a blow that would have hit his face. He backs away, knees bent, stance ready for the next onslaught of attacks. His opponent, swings the blade up, metal glowing red from the approximation from their red dragon mask, the blacks of the mask’s eyes always appearing to stare directly at Hanzo, no matter how close or far he is. Hanzo know that this particular opponent is not like the others he defeated in the parking lot, this individual is an elite fighter. They are capable with a sword, but to what extent? Hanzo lunges forward, feinting an attack from above but coming to the side. His opponent sees right through him and slides his blade away and attempts to slash at his now exposed side. Hanzo manages to catch the sharp edge with a swift spin off his blade, the tip pressing the harmful side away. The the opponent uses the momentum to swing the blade up and over their head, trying to slice down. Hanzo side steps and attacks his opponents free side, but they simply jump, leaping over Hanzo and striking at his head.

Hanzo leans back, one hand catching his weight while he swipes a leg at his opponent’s legs. Once again, the agent jumps, not caught off guard in the least. Hanzo then flips back, giving himself space from this elite assassin. The assassin lunges, stabbing towards Hanzo’s chest, but Hanzo spins away and attempts to strike at their back, but they spin, kicking Hanzo in the forearm and then swipe at his abdomen, which nearly hits, if it were not for his ungraceful jump back. Hanzo is beginning to believe that this swordsman is almost better than him, which draws up frustration, dread, and fear all at once. He gives the masked person a heated glare, eyes sparking with bubbling anger, but this does not phase his opponent and they launch at him again.

With a flurry of precision, his opponent strikes at his head, then his side, and then twirls with the grace of a dancer and stabs the blade towards his midsection - not what Hanzo is expecting. However, several quick movements of his wrist and a single sidestep, he is spared from his enemies blade. At this point, Hanzo is looking for a way out, because he is becoming close to being outmatched by his opponent and he knows that he will not win by means of a sword. Hanzo, now officially stuck on the defense, tries to think of a ‘unfair’ way to win this battle. And his answer comes in the form of a bright light fast approaching in the tunnel. With a new direction, Hanzo catches his opponents blade and steers their back towards the tracks. Several feints, aggressive steps forward, and a lunge later, He is close enough to be able to turn the tide of the battle.

With one yell, a twist of his wrist and pushing his palm out towards the enemy, a gust of wind shoves the masked individual out onto the tracks, right as the subway reaches the opening. The enemy disappears as the blur of the train occupies the space they are in. Hanzo takes a breath, not realizing he had been holding one in the entire time. It appears the cultists had learned and that made him anxious. Hanzo looks back to the mortal he had met not minutes ago, only to see the tail end of their escape from the subway tunnel.

“ _Kuso!_ ” Hanzo growls to himself - he still needs that mortal.

 

\--

 

You witnessed a man literally push another being into an oncoming subway after an intense duel of fates with the use of _swords_ , so you chose now, of all times, to run like hell. Not looking back, you push your legs forward, panting from the anxiety, shock, fear, and the fact you aren’t in the best shape. You haven’t done cardio in a long time, but nothing could have prepared you for the fact that you might have to run from several psychopaths with their swords in the middle of the night. You had seen murder, did that make you an accessory? You curse yourself for not running sooner, you aren’t good at feigning ignorance.

Looking over your shoulder, you spot the man running up the stairs, eyes scanning the streets before spotting you. Icy fear grips your heart as he begins running at you with a determined expression. God, you don’t want to die, why did this happen to you? Trying to speed up, you turn your head back around and run towards the festival, knowing he wouldn’t likely kill you in public. You run right by a small crowd of people, right as they started to fill up the sidewalk. You grin - he would have to slow down in order to catch you, unless he wanted to draw attention. Gazing back, your heart only freezes when the man literally jumps up, running against the building, around the crowd, and then drops down with grace before speeding after you.

“What the hell!?” You half mumble, half yell to yourself. Life really hates you at the moment, allowing the murderer to be some sort of samurai-ninja crossbreed. You are too distracted with the fact that you’re being chased by a ninja to realize that there’s some people pulling out boxes from an alleyway, so naturally you collide with the boxes. You feel the wind get knocked out of your lungs, face, hands, and arms stinging. There’s several people crowding around you, asking you things you can’t understand due to the fact you’re seeing stars above your head. It takes you a moment to come back to your senses, but that’s all the time your murderer needs to catch up with you, standing over you with a glare. You feel a hand wrap around your forearm, some words are exchanged between him and the people around you. Apparently it’s enough because they just allow this stranger to tug you to your feet and pull you, half drag you, into the darkness of the alleyway. You’re still suffering from dizziness by the time he throws you at the wall.

“I demand you give me back what if rightfully mine!” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, voice still ever as charming, but stern, angry, forceful. You lean on the wall to secure your balance, eyes blinking, still trying to catch your bearings. After gingerly holding your forehead, you squint up at him, remembering what he had said to you.

“What?” You eloquently reply, which is not the right answer, because he steps forward, getting into your personal space. You end up knocking your head against the side of the building because of this, letting out a hiss of pain.

“My powers, I want them returned, Oracle.” He explains firmly, some of the aggressiveness fading a bit, though his intense gaze does not falter. You, still carefully trying to nurse your arching head, blink a couple times.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You state honestly, hoping that would chill out his odd behavior. But, of course, it’s not the right answer, because his face contorts into an angry confused expression.

“You are the Oracle of the people, you must return to me what is rightfully mine!” His hands ball into fists, jaw stiff.

“Look, please...I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say in a steady tone. “I’m...glad that I didn’t get chopped in two in the subway, but I literally don’t know what you’re saying? So, uh, thank you for the save, but, um, sorry I don’t have...whatever you’re looking for?” you’re not sure how to respond, but you decide freaking out in front of a unstable person with a sword will yield less than desirable results. Your response causes him to move back a step, like he’s offended by your words. For a moment, he seems to get it, a wave of relief washing over you, but then he reaches out his hand and starts whispering words you don’t understand, then a light emits from your chest. You go completely still, like pausing in time, and you feel something being pulled from you. Panic swells in your chest at the feeling and the light and the fact the stranger looks like he’s expecting something to happen.

But then it all stops.

That pulling feeling stops abruptly, like something too big trying to be tugged through too narrow of bars. This causes the stranger to become befuddled, brows knitting together like this isn’t the expected outcome from all this weirdness. You watch as the light fades and he snakes his hand back to his side. As soon as things are back to ‘normal’ you wrap your arms around yourself, drawing in a deep breath like you have just come up for air after drowning. Your body starts to shake, eyes wide with fear - you have no idea what the hell is going on. His confusion turns to anger very quickly, dark eyes snapping to you, mad at you.

“Why do you deny me what is rightfully mine?! You promised to keep my abilities safe, not to seal them away from me, Oracle! Why have you betrayed me?” He accuses you. You take a shaky breath.

“Look, man, I don’t even know what the hell is going on!” You feel your eyes grow wet. This is all too much for you. You shake your head, feeling stress tears roll down your face. “I don’t know about whatever is ‘rightfully yours’, I don’t know who this Oracle is - you have the wrong person!” You try to get through to him, but now he starts to pace in the alley.

“Why would they betray me?!” He asks himself and you, shaking his head in frustration, “Why would they do this to me? After everything we did together, after all--” he stops moving, looking away from you. You remain silent, trying to get a hold of yourself still, sniffling and gulping down a nervous breakdown. After receiving no answer and the two of you standing in silence, he takes on a more stoic expression. You turn your eyes away from him, looking for a way out of this terrifying situation, only to see more red dragons walking on the other side of the street. You press into the wall again, hiding yourself. Sensing your apprehension, he snaps his gaze to beyond the alley, “ _Kuso…_ ” he curses, the word rolling off his lips with venom. He, too, presses himself into the shadows.

“Why do you have so many people chasing you?” You ask, voice wobbly. He does not respond. You look from the stranger back to the street and then take a deep breath before peeling yourself from the wall. You walk over to the stranger and grab his arm, leading out into the street. You feel a tug of resistance, his body rooting itself in the alleyway.

“What are you doing!?” he hisses.  
  
“We need to move!” You say, watching the dragon themed group rushing by. “As much as I like watching sword fights, I rather not be a part of one again!” You tug on his arm lightly, testing to see if he will comply. Much to your surprise, he allows you to lead him. You slink out of the alleyway and into the street, keeping to the side of the building. You know this was a strange and probably dangerous plan, but you don’t have the heart to just run off on your own. You feel desire to help those in need, especially this one. You barely know him, but he did save you from being cut in half.

Wanting nothing more than to distance yourself from the scene, you glance around for a quick escape. You see a bus stop, further down the road, towards the festival - in the direction of where the crazy red dragon people went. You take in a deep breath before leading Piercings towards the bright festivities. You walk into the crowds, approaching one of the first swordsmen, eyes turned away from your current position. You duck, Piercings following your lead, and tightly press against the back of the stalls. There is light all around you, so there’s no shadow to hide in, leaving you and piercings exposed. Relying on subtly alone, you quickly, but not too quickly as to draw attention, walk around the weird dragon gang member. When he starts to turn towards your direction, you stop and  duck beneath the counter’s height. You feel a the heavy weight of dread settle in your stomach, hoping they didn’t see you. You wait several moments before peaking a glance over the counter. There are several men in the same spot now, talking.

“Come on.” You urge, standing and quickly walking over to the bus stop, keeping an eye out for more of the gang. You see a bus rolling towards the stop, causing anxiety to kick into gear. You need to get on the bus before anyone sees you. So you cast a glance over to the gangsters, seeing that they are distracted, you sprint towards the bus stop, Piercings right behind you. The bus coming to a stop, you run to the doors and pause, waiting for them to open. Once open, you pile in, whipping out your wallet. You barely have enough for the fare, but you manage to pay for the both of you. You move to the back of the bus, wading through the people, hoping you haven’t been seen yet. You feel your heart leap into you chest as the driver looks down the steps at the very front, expecting people to walk on.

You see the head of one of the gangsters, the red dragon tattoo highlighted by the bright bus lights. You turn around, hoping that they wouldn’t see you. Pulling your hood up over your head, you crowd Piercings, moving into his personal space, waiting breathlessly. Piercings is tense, ducking his head into your shoulder, attempting to hide his face. He subtly slips his pack off, the arrows falling out of sight. For a tense thirty seconds, you hold your breath, voices from the front of the bus echoing towards the back. Then you hear the hiss of the bus, the doors closing and you dare to look back.

None of the gang members boarded.

You exhale a sigh of relief, shoulders falling. Bus driving away from the scene, you close your eyes. You are safe. Sensing the tensity slipping away, Piercings relaxes, stepping away from you and choosing to sit, pack rattling as he sets it down. You choose to continue standing, gripping the bar above your head for dear life.

Stress slowly ebbs away through your ride, adrenaline leaving your system and leaving you more exhausted than ever. Eventually, you start staring out the window, just watching the city lights as you drive by. You allow yourself to space out for a long while, ignoring all the bumps and jerks of the bus on the road. You find yourself turning to look at Piercings, his face drawn into a pensive, but stoic, look. He looks angry, but more of a contemplative anger, one built from not having all the answers, or so you could guess from the earlier conversation. You see him catch your staring, causing you to snap your gaze back to the window. You don’t blush, but you feel embarrassed.

 

\--

 

At the last stop, you and Piercings are forced off the bus. Exiting from the bright lights into the cold night air makes you shiver and blink. You look around for some sort of landmark or sign, turning in the process. It doesn’t take you long to realize that you have gone in the opposite direction of your apartment and you whine, head falling back as you look to the sky in defeat. You had been more concerned about getting away than going home, now you are paying the price for it. You look to your wallet, to check if there is any possible way for you pay for another ride, but it’s impossible.

“Looks like I’m walking from here.” You sigh, “My apartment is several miles away.” You turn your eyes over to Piercings.

“A hotel would be safer.” He suggests.

“My wallet is empty...unless you have the money?” You ring out hopefully. The silence that follows is deafening. “Well, it was worth an ask. Being a vigilante, ninja, swordsman must not pay well.” you crack a joke, but you hear no scoff, laugh, or jeer, and you choose to just start walking.

 _‘Boy, my feet will be killing me tomorrow.’_ You think sadly to yourself.

Your journey home starts off with no conversation at all. You realize that Piercings is following you shortly after realizing that you hadn’t invited him to stay at your place. Is he walking you home? Why is he following you around? Maybe he is planning to kill you in your sleep? But why would he keep so close, if he wants to assassinate you wouldn’t he hang back? Then you realize you don’t know his name and that makes you frown. You haven’t bothered to ask, nor have you properly thanked him for saving you. That makes you feel bad.

 _‘He did chase me afterwards though. Threw me into a wall. Scared me half to death.’_ The logical part of your mind informs you, but that doesn’t stop your curiosity.

“What’s your name?” You inquire, suddenly observing the man walking beside you. He stands about five feet to your right, but keeps your stride. He bows his head, as if mulling over the answer, before he speaks up.

“Hanzo.” He supplies. It’s a short and quick and all conversation stops there. You wait for him to ask you your name, but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you curious about my name?”

“No.”

Well, that is certainly rude. You can’t help but feel a little pinprick of irritation.

“Well, let me introduce myself.” You say before telling him your name, as if to prove a point. Hanzo does nothing afterwards, no comment, no ‘nice to meet you’, no look; nothing. You are now desperate to fill the silence, not because it’s awkward, but he’s walking with you, you barely know him, there’s a palpable tensity in the air, and it seems he is quietly judging you.

‘ _This seems like some kind of test that I’m failing_.’ that thought really bristles you.

“Though...some of my co-workers call me An-chan, due to an incident with red bean paste…” You casually bring up, flickering your eyes over to him. Hanzo’s face twitches, the teeniest, tiniest amount, like something itching his skin, though part of it is covered by his damn hair. You feel instant gratification - maybe Hanzo does have a sense of humor. “I didn’t get why for a long time, but they still laugh about it.” After another bout of silence, you open your mouth again. “So…” you begin, trying to remain casual, “Why were there a bunch of gangsters running around with swords?” you place your hands behind your back, bringing back the subject. “You some sort of disgraced ninja, running from your clan?” you crack a smile. Hanzo scoffs.

‘ _Finally, some kind of verbal reaction!_ ’ You cheer mentally.

Hanzo doesn’t immediately provide an answer, seeming to enjoy making you suffer. He doesn’t look to you, eyes trained forward as you walk.

“They desire my blood, most likely out of a misplaced belief that they will be granted power beyond the mortal comprehension.” Hanzo tells you. Instantly, you laugh.

“There’s that sense of humor!” You grin, “For a while, I didn’t think you had one, honestly.” You shake your head. Hanzo slowly turns his head to you, brow quirked up a margin.

“It was not a joke.” He states flatly. Your grin fades, brows pressing together and upturning in confusion. You begin to uncomfortably laugh, not sure what to think now. Was this some form of bone-dry sarcasm? Maybe it is a cultural thing you haven't discovered? Is it denial? Now you’re suddenly unsure about this unspoken arrangement.

“Are you...serious?” You carefully test the waters.

“Yes.” Hanzo gives you a stern look like you’re the crazy one.

 _‘Well...ok, that’s...something.'_ You think to yourself, trying to come up with something else to talk about.

“So, uh, where did you get the cool sword and bow that’s strapped to your back and where did you get those crazy skills?” You attempt to change the subject.

“The blade in my hand, I took from the enemy. The blade on my back was made by a friend during the 1st century.” Hanzo explains. “I’ve spent my entire life dedicated to the study of the blade and the bow, but they were honed in the 16th century. I trained heavily with the samurai of the Edo period, helping them with their own technique as well as building mine.” You nod your head slowly, not believing his words at all.

“Er, right.” You clear your throat. “You from Kyoto?” you ask instead.

“I was born before time, but the prayers of the people followed the Southern Winds above mount Fuji brought me down from the heavens and cemented my role above mortals.” He looks to you, eyes burning intensely, expecting something from you.

“Ok, ok…” You laugh, irritated, hands waving off his previous comments, “You’re messing with me!” You accuse, stopping in place. Hanzo follows in suit. “Why are you messing with me? If you can’t tell me, or you’re not comfortable telling me, just say that! Don’t lie to me! Especially after all the weird shit that happened earlier!” Hanzo’s gaze softens, but it’s not a comforting look. Like a teacher scolding a student for not having all the answers.

“You have forgotten.” It wasn’t a sad tone, just an accusation, and it pisses you off. You throw your hands into the air and step into his personal space.

“What the hell does that even mean! I don’t know what that means! What are you even talking about!?” You shout out, exasperatedly. “You’re either insane, you are the worst at dry sarcasm, or you’re the Earth’s biggest nerd and live vicariously through stories!” Hanzo narrows his eyes once more.

“I tell only the truth, you simply lack the capacity of understanding.” You glare back at him. “You have changed, Oracle. You have become a foolish child...it is pitiful.” Your lips press into a thin line at the insult, eyes becoming blank in frustration. You turn away from him and throw your hands into the air once more.

“Ok!” You start, “I have had a very weird and long day, I don’t have to deal with this.” You rub your temples. “Go! Leave me alone you crazy ninja-trained otaku!” You wave in his direction. “Bye!” You’re marching away, not looking back.

 

\--

 

After thirty or forty minutes of walking by yourself in silence, you begin to wonder what will become of Hanzo, the odd otaku ninja. Surely he won’t have much difficulty protecting himself with the skills he has, he didn’t seem to have trouble earlier. Their companionship, however brief it was, was strangely antagonistic for the most part - you will not miss that. You only hope that he will find safety, away from the gangsters. You feel a need to gaze back in the direction you came from, nagging at the back of your head. Your heart tightens in sympathy for Hanzo and his future and you let out a breath. You look over your shoulder--  
  
Only to find that Hanzo is still following you, not five feet away from you.

“The hell!” You yell in surprise, body almost convulsing from the shock of seeing him there. Hanzo stops as you stop, face ever so neutral. You lower your head for a moment, hand over your heart, to still the erratic beating and then snap your eyes back up to the stranger. “I thought I told you to leave!” Hanzo’s natural frown deepens, not appearing happy himself.

“I cannot.” He supplies. You quirk an vexed brow.

“Care to elaborate? I have pepper spray.” You place a hand on your bag, trying to emphasize your point, giving the man a tight smile. Hanzo lets out a long breath, one of the few responses he ever gives you.

“You are the Oracle. You have my powers--”  
  
“Yeah, we’re not trying that glowy thing again, that was terrifying the first time--” You pause, “Why are these ‘powers’ so important? Why call me Oracle?”

“They will restore my godhood and I will be able to ascend into the heavens--”

“Wait...what?” You give the man a confused expression.

“I am the Great Dragon of the South Winds, my brother of the North Winds. My brother and I became mortal and have been traveling the mortal lands to restore the world.” He seems notably disinclined to share something for a moment. “He has vanished.” he states, your heart lurching with sympathy, despite everything and how outlandish this story is. “Until i can find my brother and discover a way to have my abilities returned, I cannot leave the mortal plane...I cannot leave you.” He crosses his arms. “You knew my nature at one point, Oracle.” he looks away for a second. “You saw the cultists and I cannot afford to have you becoming a target. Perhaps they have not seen you, but what if they knew your presence before myself? My brother is missing, possibly by the hand of the cultists, I will not lose the Oracle to them as well.” You feel oddly touched by the sentiment, even if it’s insane.

“So, you’re an ancient dragon--Er, claim to be one?” You notice Hanzo seem to perk up at the comment, eyes now trained on you. “So, that code for you’re a furry?” and the spark disappears in a snap, like a candle being blown out. His brows dig further into his brow -- he’s not happy. However, you grin. “No laugh? Come on!” you try to coax something out of him, wanting to defuse the tenseness you feel between you two, but he doesn’t react further than that and you sigh. “So, what, you’re going to follow me around forever?”

 

\--

 

You pull the covers down your bed and adjust the pillow. Dressed in you pajamas, swaddled in a blanket, and socks on, you try to warm yourself from the long walk through the chilly fall air. You sit on your bed, allowing yourself to plop onto the mattress, and take a relaxing breath. You close your eyes for a long time, trying to ease yourself from the memories of the long day. Living in an aging two story apartment out in the suburbs meant things are mostly quiet, other than the creaking of old wood. You know you only have a few hours to sleep, so you turn off the lamp and snuggle into your bed. For a while, you’re just content to lay like this, but then you look onto your teeny porch.

Hanzo is sitting in the corner of the porch, back against the building, arms tucking close to his chest. His hood is up, backpack perched next to him, as he looks like he tries to sleep. It looks uncomfortable, the wood railing providing nothing and the porch lacking a cover, leaving the man to stave off the elements on his own. The sky grows a dark stormy grey, heavy with rain, as thunder rings out over Kyoto. He remains completely still, if you didn’t know any better, you would say he is dead.

You groan.

‘ _Manipulative man._ ’ you glower mentally.

And throw the covers off and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Standing up, you shuffle to the sliding door and throw it open. The sound causes Hanzo to peak up from under his hood. You stare down at him, mouth thin. You two stare at one another for a spell, you just keen on reading what little you can off him.

“I warn you against saying anything about the interior, dragon lad.” You shift out of the doorway, motioning him to come into the apartment. Hanzo is hard to read, eyes always intense, lips always in a neutral frown. He’s stoic, expressionless - at least from your experience with him. So when you think you spot some bit of emotion, Hanzo gets up, eyes now being hidden by his hood, and walks into the warmer building. You close the sliding door behind him and then sigh. You had not suggested him stay outside, he simply told you he would be there, perhaps to give you some ease.

‘ _Doesn’t really seem like him._ ’ You’re still a little peeved from the earlier insult, but you’re also not too sure about him in general. He’s just grumpy, stoic, and likes to be absurd. The thought makes you snort.

You pull out a futon from under your own raised bed and drag it out, providing Hanzo a place to sleep. Yukako had given you her old one when you just moved to Japan and you keep it for the occasion that she spends the night due to heavy drinking. You walk over to the closet, at the very end of your bed, and open it up. The washer is there, but above it is some spare blankets. You then walk over, snag a pillow from your bed, and unceremoniously drop it onto the futon. You look to Hanzo, maintaining eye contact.

“Try anything funny and you’ll regret it.” You warn him, then turn to your bed, climb back in, and turn your back to him to face the wall. You hear nothing at first, Hanzo staying still, then he scuffs around, likely making up his bed. You hear the unzipping of a jacket, more crinkling, then the floor creaks a tad, maybe sitting down? Then it’s suddenly quiet.

“I would never do anything to harm you, Oracle.” Hanzo’s voice rings in the silence of the room. You don’t respond. In the lull of room, you begin to hear the rain hit the roof of the apartment - you got Hanzo in right before the storm. You mull over the words he said to you and then close your eyes.

Strangely enough, you believe him.

And then you realize you forgot to pry out the answer as to why he calls you 'Oracle'. You turn to look at him, but pause. It's late, you're tired, he's himself, you don't want to deal with his attitude quite yet.

' _Guess that will be a question for another time._ ' You internally relent, turning your back to him to go to sleep.


End file.
